


Punk Rock Kids (demo title)

by darcymariaphoster



Series: Learning to Grow Up [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1980s setting, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, M/M, mentions of bullying, slight mention of depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcymariaphoster/pseuds/darcymariaphoster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*High school/University AU; Sherlock is 15, John is 18, and Greg is 20.*</p><p>Sherlock and Greg have a silent “tolerate each other for John” policy that they have never spoken of. Sherlock’s been John’s best friend since they were kids but Greg is John’s boyfriend. They have roles that they know not to deviate from because John needs them in different ways. But that quickly changes with just a few small words and several big gestures.</p><p>*Part One and Two of how Greg, Sherlock, and John got together*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punk Rock Kids (demo title)

**Author's Note:**

> Year is 1989, fyi. Don't get too lost.

Sherlock twists around in his bed, squinting at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It’s two in the morning. He knows that John is probably with his boyfriend but a call to tell him that he wasn’t going to be over would have been nice. John has never been particularly inconsiderate; it wasn’t until _Lestrade_ ambled into their lives that things have shifted. He can’t really hold it against either of them, he knows. They’re in the relationship and he is not part of it. But it does sting a bit to know that John probably hasn’t thought of him all night. It’s their movie night, and the third in a row that hasn’t been successful because of a no-show.

 

Perhaps it’s his own flaw; to expect that little would change between them as they grew. He himself has changed a lot since they met and so has John. Why should their relationship stay the same? He hopes that the distance being put between them has nothing to do with age. When Sherlock hit about ten years old, he started realizing that three years made a huge difference, even if it was only a number. While he was in year six, John was heading into eighth. The gap frustrates him; he’s smart and can keep up but that’s never been the problem. John’s been struggling through secondary school with things that Sherlock just hasn’t had an interest in yet, has gotten into things that he hasn’t gotten the opportunity to look into yet. It frustrates Sherlock because he can’t help his friend if he doesn’t understand what’s wrong. And human nature isn’t something he’s very good at to begin with.

 

With a tired sigh, he reaches over and flicks off his lamp. There will be no call from John tonight. He rolls over and stares out the window at the dark street, lit only by a weak street lamp a few houses down from his. He closes his eyes and drifts into a restless sleep, only awoken by the phone ringing insistently down the hall. He wiggles around until he can sit up as he hears his brother headed toward his room. “Sherlock!” Mycroft hollers, knocking on his door. “It’s for you.”

 

Grumbling, he gets up and swings open the door, grabbing the phone and slamming the door shut in his brother’s face. “Hello?” His voice is thick and groggy as he crawls back into his bed, cradling the phone to his ear.

 

“Hey, Sherlock,” John’s voice comes through, sounding cheerful but guilty at once. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to pop in there last night. I was with…”

 

“I know,” Sherlock interrupts, partially still disappointed from the night before and partially annoyed at being woken so early. It was seven in the morning. On a Saturday. “Lestrade. I gathered as much when you didn’t even call.”

 

John clears his throat quietly. “Yeah, about that… I’m real sorry, Sher. I was going to call you to tell you that I wasn’t going to make it but we got...erm...caught up. Do you want to hang out tonight? Do you still have the movie?”

 

Sherlock rubs his face tiredly, holding the phone away from his ear for a moment as he considers. He would never admit it but that voice could easily persuade him to do anything. He puts the phone back to his ear and sighs. “I have a prior commitment for tonight. John, we picked last night because it’s the night we’re both free.”

 

“I know, I know.” John exhales heavily on the other side of the line, sounding rather defeated. “I want to make it up to you. It’s the third time I’ve done this to you and I feel ridiculous. I can cancel my normal date night with Greg and we can hang out, if you want.” Before Sherlock can even begin to mull over what has just been offered, he can hear Greg in the background whine, “Hey, now. Wait just a minute!”

 

He shoots straight up in bed, glaring at the wall in front of him and shaking with anger. “You’re with him now! No, I don’t want to even see you this week. You’re not being you and I’m tired of being forgotten.” He hangs up before he can listen to the reply. He throws the covers off of himself, wandering out of his room to put the phone away. Mycroft is in the kitchen, munching on toast. He almost turns around and goes back to bed.

 

“Good morning, Sherlock,” his brother drawls from the table, pushing a plate toward him. “You’re looking a bit green around the gills this morning.”

 

Sherlock puts the phone back into its cradle on the wall and sits at the table, poking his eggs with the fork provided. “What does that even mean?” he grumbles irritably.

 

Mycroft’s lips twitch up a bit in a sort of dull smile. “It means you’re looking a bit sick. In this case, I’m assuming you’re just a tad bit angry. You’re paler than usual.”

 

“I’m not sick,” Sherlock huffs, rolling his eyes. “And that is a ridiculous saying. For starters, fish are not green. And they are not green when sick, either. Also, I am irate, not angry. And there is a difference.”

 

“I am aware of the difference,” his brother sighs patiently. “You really need to look at a fish sometime, Sherlock…”

 

With a scowl, Sherlock says to his eggs, “I am not interested in fish… There is very little knowledge I can gain by studying them as of this moment. Please do not annoy me with illogical sayings.”

 

***

 

John flops back onto his bed, looking at Greg with annoyance. “Was that really necessary?” His boyfriend shrugs, not seeming any sort of repentant. “You knew he’d be angry already.”

 

“Yeah, well, he’s being a bit of a baby,” Greg huffs, tucking his arms behind his head. “If he wanted to hang out with you, he could work around his stuff. You’ve got a boyfriend now. He can’t have you all the time.”

 

John rolls his eyes, poking his side. “And you’re just a tad bit jealous over nothing, babe.” He lays back, staring at the ceiling. “But still. I do feel bad about it… I promised him that we’d hang out last night. I need to make it up to him.”

 

Greg exhales heavily, rolling onto his side. “You don’t _need_ to. Come on, John, let it be. You’ve got school and work; he knows that.” He drapes an arm over his stomach, tracing small patterns over his chest. “Don’t stress yourself so much.”

 

“He’s my friend, though,” the blonde answers, closing his eyes. “He shouldn’t be an added stress.” He’s falling asleep again, despite his best efforts to stay awake and be upset. “You’re being a jealous prick.” Greg just laughs and leans over, kissing his neck softly. He mumbles something and giggles, trying to wiggle away. “Stop distracting me!”

 

“You need distracting,” Greg says into his neck. “You’re being ridiculous.”

 

***

 

Sherlock’s used to being made fun of at school for a range of things from being tall to being smart to being rather poor. Or, rather, he pretends to be used to it. Normally, he’s had one night to vent a little to one of only two people who listen to him. But since one of those people has become seemingly too invested in his romantic relationship, he has only one other option. After getting dressed for the day, Sherlock takes the phone back to his room and calls Molly. Having her own line in her room, she answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

 

“Hello, Molly,” he replies, trying not to sound as put-out as he feels. “I was wondering if you could spare some time today to hang out?” He’s not a social person and he feels absolutely awkward, looking around his room and attempting to seem casual.

 

She’s quiet a moment and then stutters out, “Oh… I was going to go to the shopping centre today… Do you maybe want to come?”

 

If there is anything he dislikes more than talking, it’s shopping. But he wants to get out of the house and he needs to vent a little. So he agrees. They decide that he will walk up to her house in ten minutes and her mother will take them up. The only thing left is for him to ask his mother for his allowance. He’s been saving his money and he has close to a hundred pounds in his drawer. However, he’s hoping that, if possible, the addition of this week’s allowance will help him in his quest. Feeling irritatingly guilty, he slips from his room and hangs up the phone before going to his mother’s office. She looks harassed, as the norm, scribbling out figures and flipping pages about. He knocks softly and she turns around, expression softening immediately. No matter the amount of work, she’s the kind of person who will always make time for her children and seems to never run out of patience for her boys. “What can I do for you, Sher?” she asks gently.

 

He hates this part. His father works, too, but he’s always gone during the day. His mother is the only one to ask when it comes to the allowance. “I was wondering if we had enough for our allowances this week. I’m going to go to the shopping centre with Molly in a bit and I was hoping that I could get it,” he explains quietly, leaning against the doorframe.

 

She lets out a sigh and stands. “Let me go see…” She brushes past him and goes to her room, getting her wallet out. She comes back out a few minutes later and hands him a five pound note. “That’s it for this week, honey. I’m sorry.”

 

Sherlock gives her his best smile. “That’s alright. I understand. Thank-you, Mummy.” He hugs her briefly and nods as she tells him to be safe and to attempt not to get into any trouble. Then he puts his shoes on and walks down to Molly’s.

 

***

 

John shuffles down the walkway, shoulders hunched up. Greg has a late shift that he’d had to get ready for. Of course, he had offered to drive John home but the blonde had refused. He wants to walk home, think a bit. This morning is nothing new. For three weeks, it’s felt like a battle of sorts between Greg and Sherlock. If he spends his Friday night with his best friend, his boyfriend whines about how he can’t take him out on a normal date night, as if Saturday isn’t just as common. But if he misses Friday night to spend it with his boyfriend, his best friend gets upset that he doesn’t have time for him.

 

To be fair, he knows that he’s been neglecting Sherlock and his friend has been amazingly patient. He doesn’t really blame him for losing his cool this morning. He’s tried explaining to Greg that Sherlock only wants one afternoon with him, that he’s only one of two friends he has. And Greg gets rather jealous fairly quickly. He sighs, tugging at his collar. It’s around seventy degrees out and he’s almost -- _almost_ \-- regretting not getting that ride home just so he can have the air conditioning.

 

It’s one of those days; he can tell. He normally has no problem with depression; it’s always been something he didn’t think really affected him. He’s only had one time that he has ever really fallen victim to it and it was only because he’d had a shite week. But he’s been so stressed with school and work and his boyfriend-slash-best friend problem lately, he knows that it’s really starting to get to him now.

 

He’s suddenly very tired and pushes his front door open wearily. After kicking the door shut behind him, he drops his bookbag by the door and heads for his room. The house is silent, which is normal for the weekend. His parents are normally out for work and get one or two days off at a time when they’re lucky. His sister doesn’t like to be at home a lot; preferring to go out with friends and stay with them for days at a time. They don’t get along much, really. But it’s mainly Harriet’s fault, fighting everything his parents say and arguing over nothing constantly. His house can be the worst hell ever when everyone is around at once. He’s very grateful that no one is home.

 

He sprawls on his bed and stares at the ceiling before deciding to turn on the television, if for no other reason than to have a background noise.

 

***

 

There is one thing he misses about Monday mornings and it comes in the form of a person. Growing up, John and Sherlock would walk to school together. Even after the age difference became a bit of a hassle and John started going to secondary while Sherlock was still wrapping up primary, they would meet in the morning and walk to John's, which was closest. John still sometimes regrets not getting up just a bit earlier and walking to the primary school for Sherlock’s sake. Bullying has always been a problem for his friend and he’s never been afraid to stand up for him. But he wasn’t always there and he certainly isn’t anymore. He recalls a time when the two changed their route entirely in the morning so that Sherlock could avoid a particular house along the way. It had never been discussed between them as to why, even though John could take a guess.

 

As the Monday morning light filters through his window, signalling the end to his weekend, John sits up groggily and huffs tiredly. Slowly, he drags himself from bed and starts getting ready for the day. Greg wold be there to pick him up in an hour and, even though he’s mainly managed to convince himself that he’s a morning person, he really does not want to be awake. He’s still munching on his breakfast when he hears the horn. He moves the buttered waffles to the napkin and dumps his plate in the sink. No one had come home over the weekend so he isn’t worried about noise. He hurries outside and climbs into his boyfriend’s car. “G’morning,” Greg greets cheerfully, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

 

John smiles at him and mutters, “Good morning. I see you’ve already stopped in for coffee?” Actually, he doesn’t. But he knows that Greg can only be _that_ happy in the morning only when he’s had his coffee.

 

Greg catches him looking as he pulls out of the driveway and starts down the street. “I snagged a cup on my way out the door but I haven’t gotten to my shop yet. There’s no time before your first class for me to go all the way out and back here.” He pauses and grimaces. “Unless I got up earlier…”

 

“Such a horrific idea, isn’t it?” John teases, grinning broadly. He doesn’t look very amused. “You probably should be getting up earlier anyway. You’re so lazy.”

 

“You’re still eating breakfast,” Greg points out in an obvious tone. “There is no room for you to talk.” He chuckles at the grumbling he gets in reply. “Have you heard from Sherlock since Saturday?”

 

The question surprises John because Greg doesn’t normally care. He scrunches his eyebrows together, confused. “No, he’s still ignoring me… I called his house twice yesterday and his brother said he was refusing to open his door for the phone. I’m kind of worried about him, honestly…”

 

Greg hums, frowning deeply. “I’m sorry… We’re actually on track this morning; do you want to stop by his house and see if he’ll answer for you?”

 

John considers it a moment and then shakes his head. “Thanks but I know he won’t. It’s too early, for starters. Besides, he wouldn’t appreciate it if I showed up with a limited amount of time to talk to him. Maybe later.” Greg nods thoughtfully and doesn’t push the subject. “Um… What brought that on?”

 

He blinks and glances at him swiftly before focusing on the road again. “I was just worried. You looked pretty upset when you left Saturday and I knew it was either because of me or Sherlock or a combination of us. It’s been bugging me.”

 

John tries not to get upset at him. In his weird, backwards way, he does care and he has to take it that way. Greg is always a bit behind and his logic isn’t normally anything but transparent; it’s easy to get upset with him because of it and John has to remind himself that he isn’t trying to be an arse, not really. “I’m just frustrated. Sherlock can get fussy. But, to be fair, I haven’t seen him in three weeks… I want to be able to spend time with my friends, too, Greg. And I really don’t want to talk about it right now because this isn’t a fantastic way to start my day.” He guiltily keeps quiet the rest of the way.

 

***

 

Greg isn’t an inconsiderate person but he’s decidedly very selfish. Normally, this doesn’t bother him much. Most of the people he’s dated don’t care because they find it endearing how possessive he can get. John tests him. Constantly. He’s always asking him to be more selfless, to not be so jealous, to work with him more. He wants a _partnership_ , not an ownership. It’s not something he’s really seen the difference in. His mother’s a stay-at-home mom and his dad does all the working. They’re still very much in the forties sort of lifestyle and Greg sees it all the time, has been taught that way since he was little. He’s the man and any partner he has should be _thrilled_ to be doing what he asks of them, to be bending over backwards to spend time with him. At the same time, he’s seeing things changing. Or they’ve been changed, anyway. He’s just a bit behind still. He’s literally dumped girls before because they’re so dead set on being stronger, almost wanting to overpower the balance in the relationship.

 

With John, it’s a bit more of a struggle. Not because he doesn’t challenge what he knows because he does all the time. But it’s because Greg knows that he loves John and is pretty willing to do whatever he asks just to get him to stay. It’s a fight he has with himself every morning before he sees his boyfriend. He gives little victories to John to make him happy, to keep him by his side. It makes him feel a bit more in control while letting the blond think that he’s changing his mindset about how relationships should function. And it makes him feel guilty a lot of the time. He’s lying to the one person he’s willing to live the rest of his life out with.

 

When it comes to Sherlock, Greg has the hardest time. He knows that John sees him as just a friend but he also has had offhanded conversations with the brunette and knows that if he had a chance, he would attempt to change John’s mind about their relationship. At first, it scared Greg because John and Sherlock share very similar views about how the world should be. His fears have since ebbed as he realized that the brunette was far too insecure to ever try and take John from him. Besides, he knows how to distract his boyfriend enough to neglect his friend for awhile when he feels too threatened.

 

This week feels different, though. He’s kept John from Sherlock three weeks in a row and that’s pushing the envelope a bit. If he does it again, there’s a high chance that John’s patience will wear too thin and a fight would be around the corner, leaving Sherlock an open window to push Greg away completely. Keeping John from his friend is something to be careful about. Their relationship was close, for being friends, and had a factor that Greg never hopes to be able to understand: time. They’ve been friends for years and years while he and John have only been dating for seven months. He’s constantly dancing around Sherlock, the one _thing_ that keeps John from him completely. Talking to Sherlock is pointless and normally ends up in yelling matches, most of the shouting coming from himself. He’s resigned himself to let them stay friends because there’s nothing he can do to stop them. And he’s tried.

 

Lately, he’s felt the pressure of scheduling keeping him and John apart, though, and uses that as an excuse to keep him away from his friend. In all honesty, it really does scare him sometimes, how busy their lives are. John still lives at home while Greg is on his own. He knows that John won’t agree to moving in with him until they’ve been dating for at _least_ a year and even then it’s pushing it. But the time they actually get to spend together seems to keep dwindling and he’s scared of having that be the sole factor in them drifting apart. It scares him so badly, he’s slipped up and feels his judgement is impaired when it’s come to keeping Sherlock and John apart this month. He’s being overly-selfish and if he doesn’t fix it, he knows that he alone could force their relationship to an end.

 

He rubs his face, ignoring the lecture completely when he knows that he should really be taking notes. Obviously, the one thing that he knows needs to change is his idea of Sherlock. And that is never going to happen. There has to be some sort of compromise to help John, to keep their relationship safe, and to know that Sherlock will never be a threat. He needs to have a very _serious_ conversation with the brunette, he finally decides. Sherlock is a brilliant kid, for only being fifteen, and he’s sure that he knows more about what he’s doing than he’s letting on.

 

***

 

Sherlock’s walking home distractedly after school, a million different thoughts slowly being sorted and carefully tucked away to study later that night, when a car pulls up just ahead of him. He recognizes it immediately and scowls, intending to walk right past it. The window rolls down and Greg calls, “Want a ride?”

 

He glances at the car, peering in curiously. “Where’s John?” he inquires, because Greg does not bother him if it isn’t prompted by the blond first. It’s a silent rule, one neither has broken as it goes both ways. Normally, any sort of conversation the two end up having is under the strict supervision of John who always has his arms crossed as he pretends not to listen.

 

Greg gives him an easy smile. “Dropped him off at work already. Hop in.” At Sherlock’s hesitance, he tosses in, “I’ll buy you a milkshake, if you’d like.”

 

Sherlock glares at him, feeling as though he’s just been kicked. “I do not need you to _buy_ me anything, Lestrade.” Deciding that this has been answer enough, he starts to walk off again. To his surprise, and irritation, Greg climbs out of the car and follows him. “Really, now?”

 

“Come on, it’s my treat,” Greg insists, catching his arm and tugging him to a stop. They don’t touch, it’s a rule. This is getting too bizarre for him.

 

He tries a different tactic to get out. “I don’t like chocolate.” It’s too weak and he knows it, mentally kicking himself. He’s giving in and there’s no logical reason why he should be.

 

Greg gives him an odd look. “Yeah, well, you can have strawberry for all I care. Like I said before, it’s my treat, kid.” While the nickname he insists on using annoys him, his curiosity is starting to get the better of him. Greg is putting a lot of effort in getting him to take a car ride and talk with him. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Sherlock agrees and they go back to Greg’s car. It’s a quiet drive to Wimpy’s and Sherlock snickers at the idea that Greg wastes half his paycheck eating the junk. But he says nothing because he gets his strawberry milkshake and he doesn’t have to pay for it. They find a place to park and settle back, Sherlock enjoying his shake while he waits for the other to gather his wits. “Look, I need to make something very clear here. But in order to do that, I have to admit that I didn’t mean to keep John away from you for so long…”

 

He doesn’t get to finish that thought because Sherlock snorts and looks at him in amusement. “Of course you did. Well, to an extent. You’re terrified, Lestrade, and you won’t admit that it’s not me you’re scared of. You’re scared of what _you_ could do to your relationship with him. School, work, me -- those are excuses. You’re stupid and you know it.” Greg’s lips are pressed together in a tight line and he doesn’t look relaxed anymore. Sherlock leans over a bit. “Let me tell you, though, Lestrade, that if you want a reason to fear me, I can give you one. If you ever hurt him, really and truly hurt him, I will not hesitate to break your face in. I’m not afraid to go to prison for him.” He leans back and sips casually at his shake.

 

Greg lets that sink in a moment, his eyes darting out the windshield before hovering on Sherlock’s face again. Then, with some quick thinking that he’s quite proud of, he smiles at the brunette. “That’s the problem here, Sherlock. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you’re in love with him and if you try to take him from me or make any moves on him, I’ll know and I’m not afraid to hurt you.”

 

Sherlock tenses completely and struggles to continue to look nonchalant. He takes a few deep breaths through his nose to calm himself before he turns to Greg again. “You’re quite blind…” he says softly, slightly awed that one person can be so utterly stupid. “I would never try to take him from you because you, for some insane reason, make him happy. And, above _all else_ , his happiness is most important. As long as you are vital to that, I will not interfere. But all I ask is that I have one night to spend with my _friend_.”

 

He sounds vulnerable, a bit scared, even behind the darkness in his voice as he threatens him. Greg’s struck silent, mulling over his words. They sting in all the wrong ways because he knows that he’s being called out on the one thing he’s doing wrong in his relationship with John: he’s not considering his happiness as Sherlock is. He’s selfish first and selfless last. It’s yet another thing that Sherlock has over him and he hates it. Then he shakes his head and starts up the car again. “You’re really pathetic, Sherlock,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “Clinging to someone who can’t even see how much they mean to you, letting him take you for granted.”

 

Most of the ride to Sherlock’s is silent, only interrupted with directions here or there because Greg has only had to drop him off twice since they’d met a year ago. But as they near his house, the brunette glances at the other man and informs him, “The thing is, Greg, I don’t need him to know. As long as he’s smiling, I don’t need to matter.” They pull into his driveway and he mutters a thanks before getting out of the car and going into his house.

 

As he drives home, Greg feels absolutely miserable. There’s something else beneath the misery but he doesn’t want to delve into it quite yet. He really just wants to have a pity-party for himself. It hits him as he locks his car and heads up to his flat, though, and he stops dead.

 

For the first time ever, Sherlock used his _first_ name.

 

***

 

It’s not a fair game anymore. Sherlock can tell that the moment he sets his eyes on John when he answers the door on a Wednesday afternoon. Greg is standing behind him, trying not to look too out of place. Sherlock attempts a weak smile, obviously confused more than anything else. “Hey, Sher,” John greets brightly. “I know it’s not our normal afternoon but I wanted to hang out.”

 

He watches the brunette glance over his shoulder. “Give me a moment…” He closes the door most of the way and goes to his mother who had poked her head out of the kitchen. The voices are quiet but clear: “Please, Mummy?”

 

“You just saw Greg last week, Sherlock,” she replies, sounding a bit distressed. John looks at Greg with a raised eyebrow.

 

“He’s not the one I want to see, and you know it.” John looks back at the door. “I’ll do this again Friday.”

 

Sherlock’s mother sighs softly. “Friday is your normal day with him. You can show me what you’ve learned by making breakfast and dinner next Wednesday, deal?” To be honest, his mother is John’s favorite person. She’s given up an actual career for a minimum wage job so she could be with her sons. Between her and her husband, they barely earn enough to make ends meet. And, yet, she always make sure that Mycroft and Sherlock get as many opportunities to learn as possible -- even if she has to teach them herself. To her, information is the most important weapon anyone could yield and she’s constantly encouraging her sons to gather as much of it as they can. Most of the days that Sherlock is busy are occupied by classes his mother gives him.

 

“Deal. Thank-you, Mummy,” Sherlock agrees gratefully and reappears shortly after. “I have the rest of the afternoon off. My room?” He glances at Greg uncertainly.

 

John smiles easily at him. “Greg wants to say something. Let’s go inside, then, yeah?” His friend nods and they shuffle into his room. It’s a fairly decently sized room with a bit of clutter that shows someone uses it but is otherwise always clean. The desk is littered with homework and a few candy wrappers that Sherlock hastily tosses into a nearby rubbish tin. “Thanks for letting us in…”

 

Sherlock eyes him critically but Greg starts talking before he can say anything. “Look, Sherlock, I want to propose a truce of sorts. We can both agree on one thing…” He glances at the blonde and changes his mind. “One person. So let’s just...call it a truce for a bit. Yeah?”

 

The expression on Sherlock’s face is a mix of suspicion and bewilderment before he looks at John with accusation. “It wasn’t my idea. I just brought him here. Partly because I wanted to see you and partly because his sense of direction is about as accurate as an Austrian.”

 

“I…” Sherlock glances between the two and sighs, seeming reluctant. His eyes settle on Greg and he rubs one hand over his face. “As if… Fine. Truce.” He sticks his hand out toward the man. “I get my night back.”

 

Greg takes his hand and smiles tightly. “You get your night back.” John grins brightly, obviously pleased. “So, um, can I stay?”

 

“If you must…” Sherlock grumbles, pulling his hand back. “I’m afraid I’m not much of an entertainer, though… I still have that movie if you want to watch it…” At the blank stare he gets from John, he swallows back his disappointment and reminds, “It was my turn to pick and I got ‘Bad Timing’.”

 

John grimaces. “Right. That psychological thriller… It’s still light out so I don’t mind. Greg?”

 

“Sure, why not?” Greg shrugs and smiles. “I don’t think I’ve seen it. I remember the trailers for it from forever ago, though. It looked good.” He glances around and John can _see_ how much effort it takes him to not give a biting comment about the lack of television.

 

Sherlock turns pink, knowing exactly where his thoughts are. “We have to, um, go downstairs. To the den.” He goes to his desk and rummages around for the tape. “Besides, I’d rather not stay in my room. It’s a bit of a mess still. Been studying for exams…”

 

“This is a mess?” Greg sounds incredulous and causes Sherlock to pause. “ _Christ_. _My_ room is a mess. My entire _flat_ looks worse than this. This is normal clutter. This is student clutter. This isn’t a mess. Damn, I’d hate to see how your room looks when you’re _not_ studying…” John chuckles quietly.

 

Sherlock studies him carefully a moment before extracting the tape from underneath a pile of papers. “Is it bad that I like to see my floor?”

 

Greg’s smirk is a just a tad mocking as he says, “Not at all.” They shuffle out of the room and into the basement. It’s a fairly large space, but only half finished as his dad had run out of time and funds to block off the boiler on the other half. Sherlock and Mycroft had once had a huge fit about it and hung sheets up to hide the unfinished half and they still remain there, though mostly haphazardly as neither of them really wanted to fix them. A huge floral patterned couch sits against the back wall facing the TV that is balanced atop a small stand with a small selection of movies on the shelf beneath it. There is only one window on the finished side and it always has its curtains drawn. Mostly, the room looks bare. “Cozy,” Greg mutters and Sherlock resists the urge to demand he leaves. He doesn’t have to say anything because he hears John murmur, “Greg, be _nice_.”

 

The brunette goes to the VCR and puts the tape in. “I can make popcorn?” He’s not used to having anyone but John over and his friend normally takes the pressure off him by suggesting things or laughing airily at his attempts to be a good host. He feels awkward and knows that Greg’s judging everything from what he’s chosen to wear that day to the ugly rug in the center of the room. It’s driving him crazy and making him feel more awkward than normal.

 

“Sure!” John replied easily, smiling. “I can help. What have you got for drinks?” The two of them head up to the kitchen, giving Sherlock a much needed break while Greg gets himself situated on the couch. It’s as they’re getting cans of soda from the fridge and the popcorn is going that John turns to him and smiles. “Hey, Sher?” Sherlock pauses and turns his attention to him immediately. “Thanks.”

 

He frowns, confused. For the most part, he understands the reasons behind words. Not this time. “For what?”

 

“For this. For letting Greg over and for putting up with me. I appreciate it. I know I’m not always the greatest friend -- and especially not lately,” John explains quietly, a bit anxious.

 

“No,” Sherlock interrupts sharply, startling his friend. “You’re a good friend. You’re just caught up and I understand.” He hands him two sodas. “Go make sure he hasn’t died down there. I’d hate for Mycroft’s cat to have wandered downstairs…” John huffs, irritated that Sherlock doesn’t want to talk, but quietly agrees.

 

When he gets downstairs, Greg is fussing distractedly with his portable cassette player and John smiles in amusement. “I’m pretty sure that thing is a lost cause, babe. Might need to replace it soon.”

 

Greg looks up at him and snorts. “No way. This thing is my baby and it’s got life in it left.” He nods at the television. “I fast-forwarded the previews. Pesky things.”

 

John settles down next to him and hands him a soda. “Sounds good to me. He’ll be down shortly. Best behavior.”

 

“Aren’t I always?” Greg sneers, accepting the soda with a short thanks. Sherlock hops down the stairs moments later and sits on John’s other side, giving him the popcorn to hold. “Hope you don’t mind my skipping the previews. Thought it’d save us time.”

 

Sherlock seems slightly disappointed but only says, “That’s fine” before he starts the movie. He’s not as into it as he thought he’d be. Probably because he can see John and Greg stealing kisses at random and he wishes that Greg were the one getting slaughtered brutally.

 

***

 

They fall into a pattern after that day. Sometimes Greg is around and sometimes he isn’t. Sherlock’s tolerance of him grows until he _almost_ starts liking him. He understands that their relationship is important and all he wants is for John to be happy. So he endures. And Greg is more civil, even going out of his way to be nicer than normal. The only thing keeping Sherlock from liking him at all is he can see everything the man means in every movement and can hear things behind all the words he says. He’s still scared, he’s possessive, he’s angry at Sherlock for preventing him from having John all to himself. Greg is not a complete and happy man and it pains Sherlock to sit and never say a word. But he also sees him trying to be many things for John and it makes it a bit easier to bite his tongue.

 

It’s a Friday night in mid-summer when things shift completely. They’re over at the Watson’s household, just John and Sherlock. The two of them are laying in the grass on their backs, sleepily watching the sky. Suddenly, they hear the very distinct sound of “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham! playing. They sit up and look at each other with raised eyebrows. Greg steps through the gate, a huge boombox resting on his shoulders. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” he greets with a grin.

 

“This is the song you’ve decided to use to woo John tonight?” Sherlock inquires, a bit baffled. “Very odd choice… I don’t think it quite works.”

 

Greg laughs as he sits the boombox down beside John and plops down in front of them. “Not quite, brainiac. It’s just my introductory song. I’m going to play it every time I walk into a room from now on.”

 

“I really think you should reconsider that,” John says lightheartedly. “But kudos on a great start to this idea. I love that song.” Sherlock wrinkles his nose daintily.

 

“Sherlock, do you even listen to music?” Greg asks seriously. He’s been testing different songs for the past few weeks and has yet to run into anything the boy likes.

 

“Once in awhile…” Sherlock replies, turning his nose toward the sky. “Most of it is just noise, Greg. I don’t understand the appeal.” He lays back down, tucking his hands behind his head. “It’s not really ‘dancing’ music…”

 

Then it dawns on Greg and he grins hugely. “You’re a classical music guy, aren’t you? You dance the tango and the waltz and the like. Oh, god. I can’t believe I missed that.”

 

Sherlock studies him carefully before realizing that he isn’t making fun of him and slowly nods. “Yes, I enjoy listening to classical music. Particularly the piano and the violin. I really like Vivaldi and Gossec. Bach and Beethoven are too mainstream.”

 

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear that,” John mutters, shaking his head. “Bach is too mainstream, huh?” At his friend’s absolutely poisonous glare, he smiles gently. “I’m just giving you a bad time. I find your music choices to be helpful sometimes. This is good but it can be distracting.”

 

“Distracting is kind of the point I was going for tonight,” Greg intervenes quickly, catching both their attentions. “I needed a break and what a better way to do it than with my two favorite people?”

 

Sherlock, while initially surprised at his words, scowls at him. “I’m not a favorite. You just want to drag John off somewhere.”

 

Greg smiles broadly. “ _Au contraire_. As stifling as your presence can be, you _are_ one of my favorite people. Don’t question me right now. I’m in a really good mood. Might be the music.” He hears one of them whisper something about brownies and laughs goodnaturedly. “I haven’t had a chance today. Been studying too hard. Going to fry my brain. Come on. Help a friend out. I have tests in two days.”

 

“Your brain is already fried,” Sherlock retorts easily. “You don’t need help wasting anymore braincells, Lestrade.”

 

“Hey, be nice,” John scolds playfully. “He called you a favorite. Can you dance to this, Sher? Maybe you can teach Greg to dance. He’s dreadful.”

 

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “I don’t dance. Just because I _can_ doesn’t mean I choose to. And I don’t teach people to dance.” He sits up and looks at the boombox. “It isn’t all Wham!, is it?”

 

Greg pushes a button and The Cure starts playing. “Nope. It’s a mixtape I made about a year ago. I’ve got all sorts of songs on this thing.” He gives the other an odd look. “I didn’t even say what band that was. I thought you didn’t listen to this stuff?”

 

“I don’t,” Sherlock agrees, glancing away. “But I tried. I memorized all the popular bands from the past five years and I know a very wide variety of songs from them.” John shakes his head at his boyfriend, indicating that it’s not a subject that he should attempt to talk about if he wants to continue to have a good night. He knows why Sherlock did it and the reasoning has a lot to do with trying to avoid being bullied.

 

“Right…” Greg mutters, catching John’s eye a moment. “Well, enjoy it then. As much as a posh prick like you can. Come on.”

  
Sherlock gives him a dry look. “Silence works better for you, Lestrade.” But he offers a small smile at the very offended expression on the other man’s face. “Shut-up and listen to your Cure.” He settles back, seeming very satisfied with his word-play as both Greg and John laugh at him. He’s not certain but he feels like Greg has just accepted him as a friend. That bothers him because he and Greg have never been _friends_ ; _enemies_ has been a more apt word to describe them. He isn’t sure if the change is good and is hinting to a better future where the man is more tolerable, or if it’s bad and is foreshadowing something awful. But, taking some wise advice from his mother, he decides to go with the flow and enjoy the moment. Greg has stretched the boundaries of their relationship and if he fights it, he’s sure he’ll lose. He glances at John who has lied back down with Greg beside him, the boombox the only wall between them. He’s actually quite _scared._

**Author's Note:**

> As long as this took me to write, I actually had a lot of fun with it. I got to listen to some music I haven't bothered with in forever. The research was a bit tedious but I wanted to be accurate. Just because I didn't grow up in the 80's doesn't mean I have any right to be wrong! 
> 
> Some of the choices I made in this story are relevant, not just meant to piss people off. Because this is part of the series, "Learning to Grow Up", I did have a stand-alone for later that required Greg to be a bit of an ass now. Although, I do kind of see him having a bit of an attitude as a teenager/young adult. And John...Is pretty much just John; a bit happier since it takes place BEFORE he goes to war, though. I do not regret any choices made here. 
> 
> HOWEVER, if I made any mistakes -- culturally, time-wise, or anything else -- please feel free to correct me! I like learning~
> 
> Also, yes I made Sherlock poor. For a few different reasons. One of them is that it kind of ties into the third season when you see Sherlock's parents for the first time. (Spoiler? Sorry.) Everyone assumes he and Mycroft grew up rich and posh but after seeing their parents, I got a different idea. I will be sure to reference a few things Sherlock learned from his Mummy in later stories, don't worry. :) But one I kind of mentioned here is that he learned that information is an important key to life. So yay! That's my theory as to why he's so passionate about learning new things!
> 
> I did adjust ages a bit to fit the way I needed them to. I almost used the actors' ages but decided against it. I have a spreadsheet to show what I did, if you need it... >.>
> 
> I do not own any of the bands, artists, songs, or movies mentioned, by the way...
> 
> Peace out, all! <3
> 
> *Update: I went through and edited some of my mistakes (the school system and the money), and tried to get it more accurate. If I am still wrong or missed any, please point them out to me. I'm enjoying the learning. I'll have this Brit-picked and accurate in no time with your help! :D Thanks so much!*
> 
> EDIT: PLEASE READ (take out any spaces that hinder your being able to reach the destination): http: //hadriadenmaclint. tumblr.com/ post/148152328184/ this-is-to-all-my-faithful-followers-on-ffnet-and


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